Page 3 of Sin & Secrets

“Mister Moretti…Rocco,” he stammers.

But I cut him off before he can start feverishly begging for his life. “I’m looking for the man responsible for leaking the Guild’s movements to the Cartel. You haven’t seen him anywhere, have you?”

“Please,” he begs. “It wasn’t me.”

I step closer, brushing off the debris from my suit as I stalk my prey.

“How was it my father used to deal with traitors like you?” I ponder, noting the ashen look of fear on Bellini’s face at the mention of the previous don. “A slit throat in a sleazy motel bathroom three states away?”

“Wrists,” Bellini whispers his correction, paling even further.

I don’t hide my smirk as I wave at the approaching speedboat. Whoever was driving the thing had at least enough common sense to stop the boat when he noticed the red laser of Alessandro’s sniper rifle hovering over their chest.

There’s a second of silence before the motor kicks in again, and he begins to turn tail completely.

Bellini watches the boat leave in utter despair, his body shaking with the effort of staying on his feet. “Please, I didn’t do this!”

“Ever since assuming my father’s title, I’ve wanted to make a statement,” I gesture at him casually. “About how things will be run from now on.”

“I…I had nothing to do with this!”

I ignore him. “For that reason, I’m not going to kill you. My father always was a trigger-happy psychopath.”

None of what I say seems to ease Bellini’s despair.

“The information you sold the Cartel about our last hit was completely off the record. You could not have gotten your hands on it unless you were working with someone else.”

Bellini swallows.

“You’re going to tell me who your little rat friend is, then I’ll let you call back your speedboat, and you can sail off to Timbuk-fucking-tu.”

An almighty sob vibrates through Bellini’s chest as he shakes his head. “I can’t.”

I sigh more dramatically than I need to. I’d really hoped I wouldn’t need to ship him off to the interrogation room, but it seems nothing is working in my favor today.

“You can,” I counter. “My offer leaves the table the second I have to drag you back to the compound. You’ll find Alessandro’s knife offers you far less vacation time.”

“No.”

Behind me, I hear the Mercedes pull up, and two sets of feet hit the deck. Martino must have picked up Teo from the safe house.

Bellini murmurs something as he fumbles with his pocket. Two identical pistols appear next to my shoulders as Martino and Teo train them on the informant.

The safety goes off the second Bellini pulls out his own gun, a tiny, ancient revolver that he awkwardly clings to with both hands.

“Put the gun down,” Teo warns at my side.

But Bellini doesn’t acknowledge him; he only stares at me. “I’m sorry, Rocco.”

“Bellini.” It’s the only warning I’ll give, and we all know it.

“I wanted to see it for myself—what you would do for the Guild,” he says as tears stream down his aging face. “You are a hundred times the man your father ever was.”

“Boss?” Teo hisses, but I raise a hand to silence him.

He’d noticed at the same time I had, that Bellini’s gun wasn’t intended for any of us.

“Then help me,” I reply evenly. “Tell me who the other rat is. This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.”

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